


Turnabout

by intentioncraft



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Benny POV, M/M, References to Blood Drinking, Siren Dean, Vampire Benny, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intentioncraft/pseuds/intentioncraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C’mon, vampire, make me yours,” Dean bares his throat for Benny, his adam’s apple bobbing under the pale skin of his neck, flecked with stubble, “I’ll pledge myself to the night, dark master.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnabout

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [tumblr](http://intentioncrafts.tumblr.com/post/100753692423/dean-benny-this-au-1k-pg-13-references-to). Written for [this verse](http://intentioncrafts.tumblr.com/post/100546550293/siren-dean-vamp-benny-true-blood-inspired-au-for) :)

It’s possible that Dean’s read too many cheap vampire romance novels and seen too many classic vampire movies. But, frankly, Benny’s a bit surprised by how little he actually knows about real vampires, especially in this age. It’s not like vampires relegate themselves to the shadows like they did before the middle of the twentieth century. They’ve been around long enough, attempting to dispel many old legends and continuing a seemingly fruitless battle against new legends as they emerge. In spite of all the efforts of the vampire communities across the globe, Dean’s managed to cling to so damn many old clichés and myths harvested from the continued presence of the sensationalist pop culture surrounding supernaturals.

Then again, he supposes, Benny didn’t know much about sirens before he met Dean and all he knows is from soap operas where the sirens are suave and charming, which Dean can be when he wants to. But he can also be a colossal, dorky ass.

“C’mon, vampire, make me yours,” Dean bares his throat for Benny, his adam’s apple bobbing under the pale skin of his neck, flecked with stubble, “I’ll pledge myself to the night, dark master.”

Benny can  _hear_  the rushing in his veins and Dean’s scent, his skin and sweat, the pungent odour of clean sheets beneath them, it all barely tickles his nose through the thick, rich smell of Dean’s blood.

Benny’s bridged over Dean on the bed, hands planted on either side of Dean’s broad shoulders, trying very, very hard not to laugh.

To prevent that from happening and possibly damaging Dean’s ego, as well as to keep Dean from saying anything else, Benny kisses him just as his lips curve into a smile. It works; Dean closes his eyes and opens up to him greedily, arms hugging around Benny’s neck, making small, captivating noises that taste so sweet in Benny’s mouth and get under his skin like a good buzz. It clouds his head with warm, silky thoughts that start a tingling at the base of his spine. He’s not totally immune to Dean.

And then Dean arches his back and unfuses their mouths, eyes glazed over with lust and smirking with wild mischief.

“Can you?”

Benny hums in feigned understanding, “Can I what?”

“Bite me,” Dean replies without hesitation, “Feed on me.”

“Mmm,” Benny sits up and straddles Dean’s hips, looking down at Dean’s earnest face. It’s another one of his stupid vampire fantasies, just like when he asked Benny to read the dirty thoughts on his mind, or when he asked if Benny could turn into a bat (Dean insists he was joking  _that_  time and that he actually hates rodents). Benny sighs inwardly. Dean’s filled his head with all sorts of nonsense about vampires and what they’re all about and what they do to their partners and somehow, between all the harassment and groping and leering he faces as a siren, thinks it’s all a game. This is his idea of fun. Benny begs to differ.

But Benny still feels a pang of guilt before he even replies, “Not hungry,” because that’s a lie.

Dean remains determined, innocent and hopeful, and tugs on Benny’s shirt collar. Benny resists.

“Not even for a small snack?”

“Dean,” a warning.

Dean huffs in frustration and drops his hand, “Sorry,” he says flatly

This time, Benny sighs out loud and climbs off Dean so he can sit on the bed beside him. Dean stares dead ahead as he sits up, lips red and bitten and hair rumpled at the back from lying down, from Benny’s fingers, who knows. Benny aches to brush it down again but when he fumbles things between them like this and it’s all his fault, the last thing he feels he deserves is to touch Dean.

Even though he’s certain Dean wants him to. Dean would  _welcome_ it.

“It’s not that I don’t—”

“—It’s okay, Benny.”

“No, it’s not,” Benny smiles sadly. Dean rolls his right hand into a fist and grinds it into his thigh, something that Benny’s not sure he knows he’s doing, “Hate seein’ you beating yourself up about it,” he says, “It’s not your fault I don’t fully trust myself around you.”

Dean slides a disbelieving glance Benny’s way that says  _really_? Testing Benny for a lie, challenging him to repeat that, or switch it our for something Dean’s heard time and time again that if he gets hurt, he’s the only one to blame. And he’s not just kidding around to be contrary or difficult; from what little Benny knows about Dean and his problems back home, for all the times he’s been taken advantage of by strangers and friends and family alike, he knows that it’s going to take more than kind reassurances to change Dean’s mind.

But it’s a fragile look, one that balances on the knife-edge of impossible hope. Benny’s clenches his jaw when he wonders about how many times Dean’s let that tiny hope shine through for others, only for it to be exploited, walked on, ruined for opening himself up to faith and trust.

Benny promises himself that he won’t be another notch, he won’t be another scar.

Some day, he’ll find a way to say this to Dean, even if it happens that Dean won’t ever let himself believe it again.

“Hey,” he bumps Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s tense, a wall, “You with me?”

Dean clears his throat like he’s coming back to life, “Yeah,” he grunts.

“Movie?” there’s only one theatre in town. The owner and the only projectionist, Pam, lectures the audience on theatre etiquette and can’t resist offering her review, no matter how scathing, before every showing. Benny gets a kick out of it.

“Was thinkin’ about burgers, actually,” Dean replies, tired but trying, “Anywhere decent in this town to eat?”

Benny chuckles, “I  _might_  know of one. Owner’s pretty nice, too, I hear,” Benny says and wins a small smile from Dean, “Real southern gentleman. Least until he turns into a bat and terrorizes the town at night with his wicked intentions.”

Dean laughs and shoves Benny, “Shut up,” he says, “Never gonna let me forget that, huh?”

“Hm, not likely.”

 


End file.
